The Crimson Sight Of Blood
by Kandakicksass
Summary: Grimmjow and Ulquiorra are in a dangerous relationship spanning new liaisons... liaisons dangerous for both. Maybe it takes a cero blast to the head to realize what someone really means to you... warnings include a sex scene and violence.


He looks to the side. He doesn't know what to say. He doesn't even know how to move. All he can do is breath, in and out, and watch the ethereal creature next to him do the same. This is the same face he has woken up next to every day for the last month and his reaction to doing so hasn't changed at all. Weakly, he reaches up, tracing one slight tear-like mark, then the other. Spring-green eyes open, meeting his without any problems. He is breathing normally in compare to his lover's rough pant, squabbling to get air.

Ulquiorra Schiffer reaches his own hand up, running it through the ice-blue hair he knows so well.

"Are you okay?" Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez says softly. "I was rough." He reaches up to clasp Ulquiorra's hand with his own, but the raven is not going to stand for that.

"Don't coddle me or you'll find yourself with a much larger hollow hole," he threatens emotionlessly as always, a finger coming down to trace the rim of the hole in question, and Grimmjow resists the urge to sigh. Ulquiorra has always been like this; standoffish, unable to open up and let himself be adored by even the person sharing his bed at night. "I took it from you… or do you not remember that you are only allowed to give me what I want from you? Do not think that you have given more than I can handle, Sexta. If it hurts, it hurts because I wished it so." He watches as the man he loves gets up and walks to the bathroom, his slim hips swaying slightly with a natural grace Grimmjow loves.

"Don't talk to me like that," he says quietly, not meaning for his partner to hear, but of course Ulquiorra does, and he turns around, his expression apathetic, but Grimmjow can see the anger in his eyes before the flame of emotion was extinguished.

"What was that, Jaegerjaquez?" he asks and Grimmjow sighs again, running his own hand through his hair.

"Nothing… Quarto," he replies with a slight eye roll. "I promise. Best behavior."

"Watch your mouth, Sexta," he says, and walks into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Once again, Grimmjow has angered him. For some reason, even though he is only being used, this hurts. He traces the rim of his hollow hole himself, remembering the feel of his dangerous lover's before sliding to the edge of the bed, swinging his feet over. He winces as they make contact with the cold floor and he pushes himself upward into a standing position. He walks forward, making his way into the bathroom.

Ulquiorra is there, in the shower, his delectable body there for all to see.

"You do not now how to take a hint, Sexta," he says quietly, the anger dimmed. Grimmjow just steps into the shower with him, wrapping his arms around the raven and pulling his body against his own. He lets him, knowing that fighting would deprive him of sex. It saddens Grimmjow, knowing that the only reason Ulquiorra allows him to hold him like this is because he wants someone to fuck, but he will take what he can get.

He rubs his chest lightly, slathering soap onto the skin there.

"Seeing as you are here, you wash me," Ulquiorra says in his monotone, and stands perfectly still. Grimmjow will not argue with this; it's just more time to touch the body he loves so much.

"Nnoitora wants this, you know," Grimmjow says softly while he's rubbing soap into the perfect, flawless porcelain skin and he doesn't know why he says it. He knows it's true, but he doesn't really understand why he wants Ulquiorra to know. Perhaps he thinks he wants Ulquiorra to know that he has more admirers than he thinks. He doesn't know. But he's already said it.

"Wants what? To wash me in the shower?" If Grimmjow doesn't know any better, he would have said that the rank 4 Espada was amused, but he does know better.

Grimmjow leans in, nuzzling Ulquiorra's neck. He inhales deeply, smelling the scent of artificial citrus fruits and underneath it, Ulquiorra.

"To touch you like this," he replies. "To be able to have his hands on your body, touching you in places no one else can touch, and knowing that he's the only one allowed to touch you there."

"Jealousy, hmm?"

"He doesn't know there's anything to be jealous of," Grimmjow responds and he can't help but smirk. "He's clueless."

Ulquiorra's hands come up, sliding to his shoulders before letting them come back down, tracing over his hard, muscular abdomen.

"And Grantz wants this," the raven whispers back. "To be able to touch _you _like this. To be able to see what makes you…" His expression twists for just a moment and he digs his nails into Grimmjow's chest and drags them down. The action draws blood, but Grimmjow doesn't complain. Ulquiorra has never been gentle with him. "… _tick_."

"Explains why he hates you so much," Grimmjow says as calmly as he is able, trying not to gasp in pain. "But I can't see him wanting me. Are you quite sure about that?"

"He's confronted me about it," the raven replies, startling his lover. "Several times. He doesn't like that I have what he wants. He doesn't like it at all that it is me you spend your nights with."

"It's my decision who I spend them with," Grimmjow breaths. "Not his. I wouldn't spend the night with that creepy fuck if he begged me."

Ulquiorra makes a small sound that resembles a chuckle. Grimmjow supposes it is… in his own way.

"Creepy," he repeats and Grimmjow is sure he hears a flicker of amusement behind the words.

"Yes, very much so," he replies indignantly. "I'd much rather spend my nights with you."

"And why is that? I honestly don't understand why you want me so badly you're willing to take verbal and physical abuse just to be with me," Ulquiorra asks curiously, tracing figure eights on his chest. His throat closes up for a moment and he realizes what the problem is. He always knew it, but had never really considered it.

_He doesn't understand me because he doesn't understand love_.

The thought saddened him further, but he instead answered with a light tone. "I don't see any physical abuse here."

Ulquiorra raised an eyebrow at the fingernail marks running down his abdomen, the blood from them pooling slightly at his feet. There was a lot of blood, but he would be fine. He was already healing, the blood being washed away by the water. "You don't," he says, then raises his hand and Grimmjow wonders what he's going to do just as it comes into contact with his face.

It stings, badly, but his attention is deterred away as Ulquiorra reaches up, grabbing a fistful of his hair and yanking his head back harshly. Unable to stop it, he lets out a pitiful gasp of pain. He hears another soft chuckle and feels Ulquiorra's lips at his neck before something hard and blunt—probably his love's knee—comes up, slamming into his stomach. It dips into his hollow hole slightly before he retracts it. He collapses to his knees, bent over, coughing up blood.

"You see no abuse, do you? Then what _is_ abuse?"

Grimmjow curses his stupidity inwardly, then spits out the blood in his mouth to speak.

"Abuse is being treating like this against their will," he says hoarsely. "Abuse is hurting someone who doesn't want to be hurt, who gets nothing in return except pain." Ulquiorra kneels in front of Grimmjow, putting himself at Grimmjow's current eye level, his expression as empty as ever.

"What do you get out of this?" he asks, reaching out to swipe his thumb under Grimmjow's lip to wipe away the blood only to suck in into his own mouth.

Grimmjow doesn't know how else to put it.

"I get you," he says simply. "In return for this, I get to be with you. Don't you get it, Ulquiorra? That's why I put up with you treating me like this—like _filth_—all the time. Because I want you, and the only way to have you is to satisfy your needy urge to prove that you can draw me to my knees… that you are my superior."

Anger flares in his eyes and this time he does not extinguish it.

"You never learn," he says and stands, turning off the water and getting out of the shower. He leaves Grimmjow there and Grimmjow can't help but sigh. He really doesn't ever learn. He can't remember how many times he'd said something wrong, something that made Ulquiorra angry. He should remember that after their sweet moments usually came pain, and a lot of it.

When he can stand, he gets out and gets dressed. He'd left his clothes, thankfully, on the toilet the night before so he didn't have to face Ulquiorra naked. It was one thing when they were going to have sex. It was quite another when all Ulquiorra wants is to hurt him.

"Ulquiorra?" he calls softly, walking back into the main room. Ulquiorra is also dressed, standing near the door, facing it, but not moving. Grimmjow is sure he was pacing; he had caught him early in the morning doing just that night after night. "Ulquiorra, I'm—"

"Don't say it."

For the first time, the words are laced with emotion. Grimmjow is horrified that the emotion is anger. He's _that _mad at him?

"Don't you dare apologize," he says in a low voice. "You filth. Trash. You think you can say things like that to me? I am your _superior_, as you so _kindly _put it. You… you are nothing. Lower than trash." He turns around and Grimmjow is struck dumb. He has never realized that those green eyes could hold so much feeling, so much anger and pain. They are welling with tears and the blue-haired Espada doesn't know what to do. "How can you say things like that to me? I could cero your _head off_!" Ulquiorra grits his teeth, one crystalline tear sliding down his cheek. "_I WILL KILL YOU, GRIMMJOW JAEGERJAQUEZ_!"

And Ulquiorra is on him, forcing him backward. He slams into the wall behind him, crying out sharply, but it appears that isn't enough for his lover, his hater, his destiny. Ulquiorra is there, his hand gripping Grimmjow's throat. The last thing Grimmjow sees before it all goes black was Ulquiorra's hand, raising in a tell-tale position.

-!-

When he wakes, it is to water. He can't explain why or how, but there is water. Then, a feeling—something on his face. Something being dragged across his forehead. It is a cool something and Grimmjow decides the mysterious object is likely a wash rag or something of the sort. There is a hand on his own, rubbing smooth circles on the back of it.

He groans into full consciousness and he feels the thumb caressing his hand pause before the rag is left on his forehead.

"Why aren't I dead?" he asks without opening his eyes. He didn't want to see the pity or even contempt in the eyes of whoever was taking care of him. Would they laugh at him, so beaten up because he was stupid enough to fall in love with the Quarto espada thinking he wouldn't get hurt? "Didn't Ulquiorra cero me? He said he would. He said he would 'cero my head off'. He looked like he was going to."

"It was more like half a cero, actually," Ulquiorra's voice comes softly, and the thumb continues with its never ending circle. "I couldn't finish what I started."

"That's unlike you," Grimmjow manages, but he's both crushed that Ulquiorra would be so quick to try and kill him, and that he was here.

"I wouldn't complain, since you'd be dead if I hadn't held back. I'm sure I can finish it now, if you'd prefer."

"Why aren't I dead?" he repeats, not wanting Ulquiorra to dwell too much on his threat.

"I didn't want you dead… not as of yet, Sexta." He sighs. "Apparently, I wanted you alive. I got about mid blast before I cut myself off. I was angry at myself for losing control… and at you, for making me. Besides…" He trails off and Grimmjow can feel a gentle pressure on his lips. "… I don't want you dead," he repeats.

Grimmjow can't help but smile. "I'm glad."

"Don't get mouthy, Jaegerjaquez," Ulquiorra replies stiffly, but he's still massaging Grimmjow's hand.

Finally, he opens his eyes, pleased that the first thing he sees are Ulquiorra's sea-foam green ones. His eyes trace Ulquiorra's face, memorizing every smooth, ice-white inch of it. Grimmjow's mouth settles into a smile, his expression somewhat vulnerable.

"Thank you for not killing me."

Ulquiorra's eyes go wide, and then return to normal, nothing to suggest he'd cared except for a small twitch of his lips before he's smiling back. A tentative, shy smile, but a smile nonetheless and Grimmjow's heart almost bursts seeing it.

"You're welcome."

Grimmjow knows that it should probably stop there, but he can't stop talking. "Ulquiorra, earlier… or whenever it was, just before you blasted me, you said 'how can you say things like _that _to me?'. I… I was just wondering. Was there something else you wanted me to say?"

Those green eyes narrow into slits.

"Leave it be," he spits and Grimmjow regrets asking. But he's already asked and he _can't_ leave it be.

"Ulquiorra, did you want me to tell you that I love you?"

The raven freezes in the middle of turning away from him, then his head snaps back into Grimmjow's direction.

"Don't say that," he snaps harshly, but now Grimmjow knows and his own blue eyes go wide before he reaches up weakly and caresses Ulquiorra's cheek. He watches timidly as tears fill Ulquiorra's eyes again, but this time it isn't with anger, it is with sadness. Grimmjow is appalled. "Sexta, don't say it." Ulquiorra thinks Grimmjow doesn't _love him_! How thick could the Quarto be? How can he possibly imagine the Espada's ridiculously obvious love and adoration away?

"I love you," he says, fiercely, and he hears Ulquiorra choke on a sob. "I love you more than anything… more than even my arm, and we all know my bad habit of losing it." It is a bad attempt at a joke, but apparently he hasn't offended Ulquiorra, because one minute, he's looking at a depressed, broken arrencar, next, he's kissing one. The raven has catapulted himself into the bath, straddling Grimmjow. His clothes are getting wet sitting on top of the naked Sexta but he doesn't care.

Grimmjow returns the kiss just as passionately, meeting those desperate lips with an energy that seems to urge him forward. The blue-haired Espada all but rips the shirt of Ulquiorra's shoulders before taking Murcielago and throwing it over the edge of the tub. Usually, Ulquiorra would have keelhauled him for being so rough with his blade, but now, he couldn't care less.

Ulquiorra stands, briefly, to undress completely and tosses the drenched garments into the sink. He doesn't care about them. All he cares about is Grimmjow, and having Grimmjow inside of him. He tells him this when the blue-eyed man makes a crack about him being so eager, and the laugher quells immediately. Grimmjow, it appears, is about as enthusiastic about the idea as he is, and takes no time in putting three fingers to the raven's mouth. He sucks them in, coating them to the best of his ability… and he has a lot of practice.

Grimmjow obviously is going for the least amount of lubrication out of need and want and impatience. Ulquiorra can't say he disagrees. He prefers the pain, even just a little, over waiting. By the same token, the pain would remind him how much he had caused Grimmjow and while he doesn't regret it, he has to remind himself how unfair he was… especially to someone he_ loves _with all of his emotionless being.

While Grimmjow prepared him, Ulquiorra kept himself busy with Grimmjow's mouth, licking the bottom lip before sucking the pink tongue that had been on him, inside of him, inside of his mouth. The hand that wasn't inside his ass is on Ulquiorra's cock, jerking him off, trying to make him feel pleasure even through the dry pain in his ass. It is working. Grimmjow knows just how to work him, some alteration of putting just enough pressure to just not enough, to the point where Ulquiorra's cock is so hard, so desperate for a release Grimmjow will not give him until he is seated balls-deep inside his lover.

Ulquiorra can't complain. It is what he wants, as well.

Grimmjow has barely had the third finger inside of him for a second before Ulquiorra pulls out of their reach and sits down on his lap, the head of his cock sinking into Ulquiorra's stretched hole. Grimmjow knows it will hurt, but he also knows that his lover likes a burning penetration. It is obvious it's what he wants and doesn't object—although he has a difficult time keeping his hips still—as Ulquiorra lowers himself until he is seated on Grimmjow's lap, no evidence of what they were doing… unless one noticed that Grimmjow's cock was nowhere in sight.

Ulquiorra is biting his lip, his cheeks flushed for the first time. Grimmjow is transfixed by this show of emotion and caresses his cheek again. This show of tenderness irritates the raven, however emotionally important this was for him, and he raises himself before slamming his body down again, making Grimmjow let out a sharp cry.

"Still as rough as ever, love," he manages, groaning, and Ulquiorra can't help a smile. Thrusting again, he leans down and kisses the Sexta, hard, the force of his lips probably bruising both of theirs, but they don't care. They love it, this harsh, almost animalistic lovemaking, because this time, it is with love and that makes up for any lack of gentleness completely.

Grimmjow usually wouldn't draw it out, wouldn't usually hold back his orgasm, but he knows that Ulquiorra wants to. He wants to be able to imprint this in his memory and the Jaegerjaquez isn't going to argue. The longer he gets to be inside Ulquiorra, the better.

But Ulquiorra can't hold out for much longer. He makes it three minutes before his muscles clench so hard Grimmjow isn't sure that Ulquiorra's own passage isn't trying to memorize the feel of his cock as he comes, and in turn, squeezes every last drop from Grimmjow. The Quarto is empty and collapses into Grimmjow's embrace as he pulls out with a soft squelching noise.

"I love you," he whispers. "I know that it doesn't mean much, but I do."

"I love you, too," Ulquiorra replies softly and Grimmjow's heart soars, beating hard enough to give the impression of breaking out of his chest. "It means more than you think."

He can feel Ulquiorra's smile against his lower cheek, and smiles in return against his forehead.

**So this was really kind of a writing test for me, to see if I could write GrimmUlqui. Obviously, I think I can. I'm really starting to like this pairing, even more than IchiUryu… which, by the way, **_**someone **_**needs to write. Seriously. If you have talent, I'll write you a freaking giftfic if you want (it will probably be in past tense because I've been doing quite a bit of present tense lately), just write me an IchigoxUryu. Please. I beg of you.**

**Kandakicksass is OUT.**


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